


Murderer, Myself

by summoner_yuna_of_besaid



Series: Best Destinies [9]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Multi, The Conscience of the King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:03:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoner_yuna_of_besaid/pseuds/summoner_yuna_of_besaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anton Karidian is dead - shot by his own daughter, who had been aiming for Captain Kirk when Karidian stepped in the way.</p>
<p>But there's more to it than that.  It doesn't take Spock long to see the discrepancy, to notice the difference, to realize its implications.  The problem is, what to do once he's realized the truth: that Karidian died because Captain Kirk allowed him to?</p>
<p>Post The Conscience of the King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murderer, Myself

For all intents and purposes, life for the command officers of the Enterprise returned to normal, whatever normal was. The silence between the three had ended, their self-imposed exiles done, but to say that all was the same as it was would be far from correct. It seemed the trio was at some kind of impasse, in which they were simply unable to go any farther. On the outside it looked as if all was well. But look closely and there were cracks in the surface, flaws in the façade.

It was quite clear something had changed. Moments where Kirk and Spock had once worked seamlessly together still occurred, but there was something sharp about it – a question unanswered, a subject unspoken. A kind of electricity seemed to flicker in the air between them but neither of them seemed to want to or be willing to bring it up.

The same was true of the doctor, whose typical vitriolic discourse took on a sharper edge. McCoy had always had a vested interest in getting reactions out of Spock – in the following weeks, it seemed he made provoking the Vulcan an Olympic sport. Spock’s responses in turn, were either even more dismissive than before or, at times, even harsher in reaction.

Yet, the three began to interact as per usual, to take meals together, tease one another, and accomplish death-defying missions as they once had. Seeing Kirk in the med bay was again a usual sight, and he began having weekly chess games against Spock as before. While the triad had in some way shifted and altered, it was a triad once again.

There might be problems beneath the surface, unspoken truths, but the trio seemed content to let sleeping dogs lie.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“Dr. McCoy?” Nurse Chapel’s voice shook the man from his distant thoughts, and the fact that she took him by surprise made him grumpy.

“What?”

She cocked an eyebrow and gave him a look that was almost Vulcan in its disapproval. “Your shift ended an hour ago, why are you still here?” 

McCoy gave a halfhearted grumble in reply and waved her off. There was always work to be done and he wouldn’t be able to rest in his quarters anyway, not really. It’d been a long time since Bones had been capable of real rest, especially these past few months.

Self-revelations were a pain in the ass. Not a day went by that Bones didn’t regret realizing the truth about his feelings for Spock and for Jim, because it had made his life a hell of a lot more complicated. Every moment the knowledge thrummed beneath his skin, and the fact that he had to sit on it, couldn’t do anything about it was just the salt in the wound. He ached in ways no medication could cure. 

It just had to be dealt with, like every other piece of baggage that came with the job. All he had to do was keep it to himself, and stay out of the way when Spock and Jim finally got their acts together.

While he happened to be brooding on the thought, half of the equation of his misery stalked through the med bay doors. Bones quirked an eyebrow at Spock as he approached the desk.

“Something I can help you with?” The science officer seemed distracted, in his own way, eyes averted and posture stiffer than normal. “Something the matter with you?” When Spock still didn’t reply, the doctor felt a pang of worry burst inside. “Spock? What’s wrong?” Finally Spock raised his gaze. 

“Doctor, I wish for you to view this.” His hand rose to reveal a recorded tape. Without any further prompting, Spock stepped around the desk to insert the tape into the computer and Bones let him. In a moment, the screen displayed security footage from the theater room – and Bones quickly realized just what night the footage came from.

There, center stage, stood Kodos, his daughter across from him, phaser clenched in her trembling hands. Behind him, somewhat to the left was Jim, arms extended, ready to take action whenever the moment was right. Bones hadn’t been there when Jim had confronted Kodos, but he’d been told what happened.

“What’s the point of this, Spock?” He asked, but the Vulcan merely nodded to the screen, insisting the doctor watch. Rolling his eyes, McCoy did just that.

The scene played out as he knew it would: the conversations couldn’t be heard, but McCoy didn’t need to hear them. Lenore raised her weapon, aimed at Kirk, and Kodos stepped in the way, dying in Kirk’s place. Spock paused the tape, and then looked to McCoy expectantly.

“What?” Eyebrows raised, the doctor crossed his arms. 

“Did you recognize the discrepancy?”

“He’s dead, Spock. What are you trying to get me to see?”

The Vulcan merely restarted the video, directing McCoy to watch again, which he did with an eye roll and a sigh. Twice more McCoy saw nothing, and twice more the science officer restarted the tape.

It was on that fourth time that Leonard’s eyes widened, and he leapt forward, hands coming to the desk. “Stop! Stop the tape!”

Immediately the Vulcan did so, and the computer froze upon the image of Kodos leaping in front of Jim. Bones’ eyes darted across it, examining closing, gaze fixating upon the feet of both men.

“Go back a few seconds and play it.”

He watched: Lenore fired the gun. Kodos stepped left, in the path of the gun, in the three or four seconds between the firing and the final blow. And Jim –

Jim stepped right.

“Good god almighty!”

Spock gave a slight, satisfied nod, his dark eyes narrowing at the screen. “You have come to the same conclusion I have.” He declared, and for once McCoy didn’t react with fire and passion.

“Play it again!” He whispered, and he didn’t notice that Spock didn’t protest the illogic of watching again after the truth had been realized.

And it was true – there were a few seconds, just a few, a short time frame in which Jim could’ve done something. Pushed Kodos out of the way, leapt from the blast, ducked down out of the line of fire, something. There were more than a few ways he could have tried to save Anton Karidian without inviting harm on himself.

But the video showed Jim, in those valuable seconds, watching Kodos step into the line of fire – and willingly stepping behind him, allowing him to take the shot.

“Oh god…” Bones whispered, hands clenching. “God… Jim...”

“As a Starfleet officer, it is the Captain’s duty to insure the safety of all aboard his vessel, and that includes war criminals such as Kodos. This tape clearly displays the Captain acting in such a way that a man lost his life.”

“You goddamn, heartless computerized bastard!” Bones spun on the Vulcan, heat rising to his face and entering his voice. “That’s Jim you’re talking about!”

“Doctor, the Captain has a duty to Starfleet regulations -”

“Kodos, Spock!” Bitter rage pounding in his head, McCoy let his vitriol and his fear color his tone, while the mantra of Jim, God, Jim, continued in his head. “This is the man who condemned 4,000 people to death, and Jim was forced to watch when he was thirteen years old! Thirteen! I can’t imagine what that boy had to go through – and neither can you, and neither of us should stand here judging him for a split second decision to let the monster that ruined his childhood die!”

“That split second decision could cost the Captain his career.”

That realization sunk into the doctor’s chest like a lead weight, stealing his voice. “You… you wouldn’t, not even you…”

A short shake of his head gave Spock’s reply, and shocked McCoy from his sudden stupor. “No, I would not. However I believe the Captain might.”

Suddenly everything made sense: why Spock was here, what he was trying to accomplish. “Jim.” The doctor breathed dryly. “The guilt, he – he’ll turn himself in.”

“It would be the height of illogic to lose a capable officer due to a rash decision made in a moment of emotional compromise.” Spock continued, removing the tape from the computer. McCoy nodded at it.

“What about the tape?”

A sudden screech of metal ripped through the air, and when Spock opened his hand the remnants fell into the waste receptacle McCoy kept beside his desk. Spock raised an eyebrow.

“What tape, doctor?”

Then he was gone, leaving Leonard staring dumbly at his back for a moment, before he collected himself and ran from the room, straight for Jim’s quarters.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It didn’t take a genius to know who was pounding at Jim’s door at this time of night. There was only one of two people it could really be – and given the potency and impatience of whoever it was, Jim was relatively sure he knew who.

He didn’t get up to let Bones in; the doctor, after collecting himself, used his medical override to allow himself in. Jim didn’t move. He remained as he was, slumped in his desk chair with a tumbler of synthetic alcohol in one hand. On his computer he had typed his confession, which had yet to be sent to anyone.

“So he figured it out.” Narrowed eyes danced to McCoy, who didn’t bother trying to disclaim it.

“Ain’t nobody else who’d ever pay that much attention on this ship.” The doctor admitted while crossing his arms. “Much as I hate to admit it, we’re damn lucky he did, or else there’d be no one to stop you from pulling this foolish bullshit.”

“Is it foolish, Bones?” He mumbled, lidded eyes drifting to the computer. “I let a man die when I could have done something. My ship, my duty. I let him die.”

“Jim.” Bones came to sit in a chair on the other side of his friend’s desk. “I can’t imagine what you went through on Tarsus, and I wouldn’t try. But I can bet whatever it was isn’t something you can just let go of – and I’m absolutely sure it compromised you on that stage.”

“I knew what would happen, Bones. I saw the trajectory, and I made the choice to let him die.”

“Jim, by all rights, you should’ve never been put in the position of making that choice, anyhow. If I’d known sooner that you’d been on Tarsus, I’d of removed you from the situation and let Spock handle it.”

Tired eyes lifting, Jim looked over his friend’s face, tried to draw strength from it, to escape the shadows lingering in his mind, weighing down his chest. Emptiness echoed inside him, drawing out the ghosts of the past. The scent of acrid rust and bodies singed by phaser fire; feeling of running past exhaustion, burning up with terror, unsure of whether he was running from the enemy or towards them; his voice, Kodos’ voice, deciding their fate.

“Now, I know I spend most of my time bothering that Vulcan about being human, but right now I think you’re the one who could use the reminder – you’re allowed to make mistakes Jim. You’re allowed to falter, even fail. Given all the stress you were under, the traumas being unearthed, I’m amazed you held together long enough to face the man.”

“Starfleet won’t see a difference.”

“I don’t know about that.” The doctor looked skeptical. “Still, I don’t think we should try it. Destroy that email, Jim.”

“You know the regulations, Bones.”

“You’ll break every regulation and then some to save the life of the lowest ensign on this ship, but you won’t do it to make your own life a little easier?” Snorting, Bones shook his head. “You’re incredible. Now delete that letter before I take drastic measures.”

Jim couldn’t help a slight smile. With a weak hand that trembled slightly, he reached out and hit delete. For a moment he wondered if he should feel relief, remorse, something. Nothing rose to life in his chest. “There you go, Bones.” He muttered quietly. “All gone, no trace left. Kodos’ murderer goes unpunished.”

“Kodos’ ‘murderer’ deserves a medal.” Bones insisted as he stood. “And I think most of Starfleet, whether they would do so officially or not, would agree. Now I want you to come into my office tomorrow to talk about this.” He waited for a reply, eyebrows lifting, and after a moment’s hesitation Jim nodded. Bones left soon after.

Jim clenched the tumbler tight in hand, blinking heavy eyelids and trying to chase away the images which leapt to life behind them: the horrific memories, his voice, that horrid voice, continuously reminding him, reminding them, that they had not been chosen, that they were somehow not worthy allowing to live, that they would die…

Jim stared into his glass brow furrowed, and tried to make himself honestly regret allowing Kodos the Executioner to die. He couldn’t.


End file.
